Wormhole
by Agent Evey
Summary: Did he really have a choice? (No. 7 in the "Strawberry Shortcake Chronicles" series)
1. Life

Strickler stared at the creamy expanse of Vendel's hand as the elder troll examined him for the second time that evening, feeling very much like an ant beneath a magnifying glass. Their first meeting had been little more than a cursory glance. There had been time enough to set his arm and guess at a possible cure for the wound and that was all. Next thing he knew he was being thrown into a cage, trapped like the rabid mutt they thought him to be. The next hour was filled with a constant barrage of threats and jeers from his captors before Vendel finally entered the room. Strickler stood as they lowered the cage, brushing himself off as best he could before another bolt of pain shot through his neck.

Vendel helped him to another room that served as a medical bay and sat him down on the nearest stone slab.

"Show me your true form, changeling," Vendel said sternly, though with more kindness than the rest of his kin. Unlike the others, the older troll didn't poke or prod or jeer, and he didn't speak harshly-there was a rigidness there, but it was gentle, patient, understanding. Vendel treated him like a child and he felt like one after the mess he had made.

Strickler didn't say anything. With a flash, his skin darkened, greened, limbs and body lengthening as he turned into the very thing Barbara now thought him to be-a monster. He looked away, focusing on the cold, hard stone of the floor, ashamed of what he was. Too stringy to be a troll, to gnarled to be a human, bred for violence, raised in chaos, he was unacceptable in either realm.

"Hmm," Vendel intoned as he ran a careful finger across the half-breed's neck. Saying nothing, judging nothing.

He lifted the changeling's arm, granting another cursory hum when Strickler winced.

"Oh just say something already," Strickler quipped, annoyed at himself, more than anything, but unable to stand the silence any longer.

"You take pain well, changeling, I am acquainted with trolls five times as large who would be clinging to the ground in tears with this sort of damage. I know not what Angor Rot has poisoned you with-his potions are unfamiliar, his magic even more so-but it has nearly crippled the fleshbag woman and yet you are still standing. Her pain is your own. I am frightened to think of what might actually bring you to your knees."

He looked to Vendel, yellow eyes glowing with severity. "I was engineered to endure it," he said plainly, letting his unnatural upbringing speak for itself. "And besides, I deserve my lot."

"And who are you to decide what you deserve and what you do not?"

"No one, I suppose." He felt entirely too much like one of his pubescent students, angsting over the most infantile things.

"It's tricky business, caring for humans," Vendel spoke a as he began to gather a mixture of remedies to grind beneath mortar and pestle. "When the troll hunter first came to me I was anxious to see him fall. I wanted him squashed like a goblin and for this ridiculous fleshbag business to be over with. A human trollhunter," he huffed as though still surprised, "it's absolutely appalling."

He made another sound, and Strickler could not tell whether it was a grunt or a laugh. "But I have come to care for the human child as I would my own. I can see now why the amulet chose him; why we need him in this time of great change." He poured something into the bowl, grinding it into a paste.

"I fear for the human, and his people." The older troll dipped a heavy finger into the bowl, testing the ointment's viscosity. Pleased with his work, he lifted it to the changeling's neck. As he smeared an even line across the wound, he looked pointedly at his patient. "How much greater that fear would be if it were love."

Strickler winced, though not from the sting of the ointment. Vendel had somehow scryed his truth. Had he been that clumsy? That evident? What a foolish creature he was.

The changeling closed his eyes, concealing their yellow glow. His shoulders fell, caught between shame and embarrassment.

"Is it really that obvious?" he almost whispered.

"Only to an old, blind, fool." Vendel spoke with warmth in his voice. "I am well trained in the healing arts and have a particularly strong sense of smell, besides. Trolls release a certain pheromone when they're around someone they wish to claim as their own. To the untrained nose, it is just another scent in the wind, but to those who know what they are looking for, it is a telling marker. You were practically swimming in it when you arrived."

Strickler looked into Vendel's old, clouded eyes. "And what do you think, great doctor? Can I be cured?"

"I don't know about that." He responded, "But I do know that you have a chance to save the one you care about. I didn't just come to ease the pain, you know. Tobias and Claire are soon to return with the incantation. Your participation will undoubtedly be necessary in order to break the binding between you and the human woman. I need to know how willing you are to help with that process. I would force it out of you, but I can't. Gumm-Gumm magic is not so different, these things are sensitive to emotion-both participants must be willing to part in order for the spell to break, just as both were willing to be linked when the bond was formed in the first place. I can already guess what must have happened. You needed to make her care for you in order to perform this magic. You didn't expect how you would feel in return."

"No, I wasn't aware of the emotional element. " Strickler shook his head. "Angor Rot never told me to seduce her. I...I already felt for her when he concocted the enchantment. But you're right, in some ways." Walter admitted, "I was trying to get to young Jim by getting close to his mother, and in the process, I suppose…" He shook his head, ivory horns swaying through the air. "It was a weakness. I've been in the human realm too long."

"To love is not exclusively human," Vendel corrected, "whoever taught you otherwise has poisoned your mind. It is too bad; you changelings have great potential. A link between the two realms; human and troll. I might have thought of it myself, had the process of your creation not been so violent. Changelings," he remarked as he re-tied the sling on Strickler's arm. "I could hardly believe it at first. It is difficult for me to imagine our kind being so cruel to its young, but you are a living example."

Strickler's eyes were slits when they looked to the Elder troll, "I do not feel sorry for myself."

"Maybe not." Vendel said, placing his large hand on the changeling's uninjured shoulder, "but the female to whom you are bound has never known the cruelty of that realm. Will you extend that malice to her?"

"I..." the changeling hesitated. "I must. You wouldn't understand."

"So you won't help us?" The larger troll took a step back.

"I can't," he said, and in a moment he was human again, more comfortable in the guise than he was in his own skin. "Once the bond is broken, by your own code of honor, you cannot deny the flesh your people so willingly seek to tear apart. My very existence is treason to them. I wouldn't survive a day past the separation. Your people want justice, and I want to live, however selfish that may be. My work is not complete, and there is more going on outside these walls than you could possibly know." Strickler blinked up at him. He wasn't about to spill his guts on the Janus order, but he had to grant the leader some sort of warning. "If I'm not there to guide my own kind, then I don't want to know who will be."

"Enlighten me then," Vendel crossed his massive arms, "tell me what is happening beyond these walls."

"Let's just say," Strickler offered, "that Barbara is as good as gone if I'm not around to vouch for her. To surrender my life for hers would be futile, in the end."

For a great many minutes, the leader said nothing. He leaned against the stone of the wall, stroking his great white beard.

"You are right." Vendel said, his old voice shaking through the cavern, "I cannot deny my people their right for justice."

The changeling nodded in agreement.

"But I do know someone who can." the elder continued as he began to make his way toward the door. "The trollhunter has not always played by our rules. In fact, more often than not, he creates his own. Perhaps he can offer you a bargain that I cannot. Guards!" he bellowed, "take this changeling back to the stronghold."

Two heavy trolls entered the room; they grabbed Walter's arms him roughly. He could almost feel Barbra squirming in response.

"Be gentle," Vendel commanded, "he is still linked to the Trollhunter's kin." They grunted and loosened their grips.

"Consider this," Vendel spoke before Strickler was led away, "your refusal is a paradox. If this 'Barbara' dies as a result of your injuries-and she very well may, despite her strength-then you will be destroyed as well-either through the bond or by the hands of the Trollhunter himself. You have no choice but to help her. I have a proposition, however: I will let you strike whatever deal you may with the boy, play off of his ignorance, as it were. In return, I expect my kindness to be repaid in the future. I am giving you and out. Go. Hide. But you will help us at a later date."

Strickler nodded. It was the best he was going to get in such a precarious situation. He'd been aware of the paradox, but was hoping, in the panic, that Vendel had forgotten. It seemed that the old troll was not as slow as his gait suggested.

With nothing left to say, the guards tugged at him (gently this time) and he offered no resistance.

"For the record," Strickler added as an afterthought, uncaring of what the guards would think, "despite my lack of options, I really do want to see her well again.."

"I know," the great troll said as he shuffled into the darkness toward a different exit passage. His voice echoed from somewhere within the dense, black void. "I told you, I can smell it."

The changeling smiled as he was dragged away.


	2. Memory

The bottom of his hanging cage met the ground with a heavy thud as the guards finished lowering the chains. Nearly three times his height and as broad as battle tanks, the trolls that oversaw him grunted and growled as they approached, causing him shrink back against the iron bars.

"What are you doing?" Walter Strickler tried to sound brave as they unfastened the lock. "Why are you taking me out?"

"Because," Vendel's strong voice rang out from behind the two hulking masses. "You have agreed to help the Trollhunter's mother. I cannot very well break the enchantment without you, now can I?"

The guards stepped aside, and Vendel came between them as Walter rose from his knees. He reached a hand out to the changeling. "That is, if you are ready."

Strickler's shoulders sagged in relief. "Well," he said, "I didn't exactly _agree_ ; I said I'd consider."

Vendel nearly rolled his eyes, "Did you manage strike a deal with the trollhunter?"

"Yes," answered Strickler.

"Then you agree." The white troll gestured to the empty room. "As I said, you have little choice; regardless of whether or not you want to save this 'Barbara', you will want to save yourself. I made you an offer. Will you uphold your end of it?"

Strickler held a finger up, "one more thing."

"It amazes me that you continue to maintain the delusion that you have any say in this matter, but what is it now?"

Strickler's head sunk, green eyes closing against his next words. "Erase her memory," he said. "Everything before the binding; everything I was to her. Erase it. Neither Jim nor his mother can know, you'll have to disguise it as part of the incantation. They'd never agree to it."

Vendel paused, and then he shook his head, incredulous. "Undoing the binding will be hard enough without adding this extra element. During the separation, you will be taking the pain of her body into you own, meaning that your suffering will increase twofold. To include more in that process could prove too much, even for a changeling."

"Please," he said as he took a step closer to the larger troll. The guards growled in response, to which Vendel raised a hand. The changeling lowered himself back down to one knee. "I can take it."

The great leader leaned against his staff. "Why?"

"Taking away the pain of her body is pointless if you don't undo the treachery I have unleashed upon her heart."

"She is strong; she will survive it." Vendel said, and started to turn away.

"Master Vendel, _I_ can't." He heard his voice echo within the cavern, heart beating fast.

The white troll stopped, turned, waited.

"I've committed countless crimes," Walter continued, his eyes tracing the cold stone of the ground, "broken many promises, injured a myriad of innocents, but this...I _abhor_ what I have done. I took someone who very bravely patched herself together after many years of being torn apart, and roughed her up all over again. Perhaps I've picked an inconvenient time to grow a conscience, but if it's all the same, then I beg of you to do this. Maybe it _is_ selfish, but it'll be one less human who knows about our world, and one less soul that has to suffer.

"Hmm," Vendel mused, "you have a point about the humans having knowledge of this realm- there are already too many-but it's not enough to convince me that taking this risk is worthwhile. You must face the consequences of your actions, Stricklander, and so must she…if you want to erase these memories so badly, then you should have considered not creating them in the first place."

"You think I don't know that!?" The changeling growled, blood boiling as he stood. In a flash of green, he morphed into his other form, and lunged at the elder troll. This time, the guards did not refrain. An arm grabbed him roughly from behind, gripping onto the scruff of his neck, making him cry out in pain, while an axe head blocked his path from Vendel.

"Get off of me," he hissed, tilting his head back so that his horns would dig into the guard's arm. The guard let go, but only briefly enough to shift his grip in order to grab both of Walter's horns. He tugged the changeling's head back, grinning while the other troll held the sharp end of the axe against his neck.

"Violence will not do you any good here, changeling." Vendel's voice ebbed calmly above the chaos. "And it certainly won't help the fleshbag mother."

Despite Vendel's words, Walter continued to struggle, his unbroken long reaching up to claw at the guard's grip on his head. His captor merely lifted him further into the air.

Vendel pushed the axe aside, stepping up to Stickler, who hung in the air like a kitten. A large, white hand reached out to brush against the glowing purple wound on the changeling's neck.

Strickler cried out and green limbs froze, curling in upon themselves like a spider's. He could hear Barbara's confused and anguished cry in the distance. He struggled only a moment more before he deflated, shoulders sinking down and yellow eyes closing in shame as he let go of his rage.

"Agh!" He cried out as another wave of pain shot through his shoulder. Vendel nodded and the guard let go of his horns. He fell to the ground, palms hitting the cold floor with a thunder crack of stone. Still reeling from the fight, the troll who'd held him gave him an extra kick in the stomach.

The changeling fell to his side on the ground, cape splaying out behind him. He sucked in a breath as his insides knotted up in pain. This time, Barbara all but screamed.

"I've had enough," he wheezed through labored breaths, "I've had enough," he said again.

The elder troll scowled and pointed his staff at the overenthusiastic guard. "Demonstrate a lack of restraint one more time and you will be joining the changeling behind bars, is that understood?"

The other troll pouted with a nod as Vendel, ever patient, returned to Strickler's side. His great, grey eyes scanned the changeling's exposed back where the cape had fallen free, and widened.

"By my horns," he said roughly, and with no attempt to hide his surprise. "What on earth has happened to your wings?"

Walter's eyes squeezed tight against the lingering pain.

" _Gunmar_ happened to them." He moaned into the ground. His claws scraped the stone as he propped himself up on one arm. "He tore them off to use as leverage against any inclinations of betrayal I might harbor in the future. I was a cunning soldier, ambitious, and rose quickly among his ranks-often at the expense of my comrades. Gunmar saw greatness within me— _usefulness,_ I should say—but also a propensity for mutiny."

The changeling began to rise, free hand clutching his stomach as he lifted from the ground. The scars along his back shone dully in the candied, crystal light. When he faltered, Vendel helped, until he stood gingerly at full height. He eyed the elder troll with a look that bordered on surprise. "My wings were beautiful," he continued after a time, still regarding Vendel with his yellow gaze. "Each the height and breadth of one of your rock-for-brains goons over there, and twice as strong..."

The guards snorted.

"They were the source of my prowess," Strickler gestured to the air. "To take them from me was to steal my very soul. Gumar knew this, and he knew that—much like your precious Heartstone-what made me powerful also made me vulnerable. One day, I made a _suggestion._ Just a suggestion, that he treat my kind with more consideration. You see, I'd found one of our top soldiers, Nomura, on the ground, scrubbing up the carnage of a trio of goblins he'd pulverized earlier. We were elite warriors, not common house drudges. I merely _implied_ that she could be put to better use serving him in another way." His green hands balled into fists, "he very kindly stripped me of my wings as a result. I won't describe the pain-you can't imagine it-but I can assure you that whatever pain you fear may come, I can endure. "

Dangling limply at the Strickler's side was his injured arm, along with its sling from which it had fallen loose. Vendel sighed as he moved to fix and fasten the injury. "Just because you can, doesn't mean you should. In your own words, changeling, you've had enough."

"Funny," Walter mused when Vendel stepped away. "You think my kind is weak." He adjusted his cape to cover his old scars. "Gunmar thought the same. Now he relies on our 'lack of strength' to get him out of the Darklands. Do not make the same mistake in judgement. The strength of our species can be yours if-"

"I do not respond to pointless bribes and veiled threats," Vendel interrupted him, staff hitting the ground like a gavel "Your coercion tactics will not work here."

"That is not how I see it." The changeling held Vendel's gaze, "I simply haven't offered the right prize. If you can't be persuaded by pity or power, then you can be compelled by your own desperation. This. Must. Happen. It will protect her _and_ me. As I said, there are threats beyond these walls that you do not know of. Those of us who walk in the light can clearly see them. I need to know that her associations with me cannot be traced by magic, or by some truth-seeking elixir. You have to seal her memories. If you're worried about punishment, _my_ punishment." He paused, feeling the cold dread of fate rolling down his spine, "then maybe I have something to offer."

Vendel breathed in, then out, and nodded his great head. "I am listening," he said.

"The eye of Gunmar," Strickler growled, and with a flick of his fingers, he produced the glowing treasure out of thin air, holding it up to Vendel's clouded eyes. "It is with me," he flicked his fingers again, and the artifact disappeared, "and only I can access it through magic. You kill me, and you will lose it. Do what I ask," he produced the eye once more, "and I will give it to the Trollhunter. He needs it. You all do to win this fight."

"And what is _your_ punishment?"

"A life like yours," he answered as he folded his free arm, "scratching around in these caves. If the Trollhunter succeeds in defeating Gunmar in the Darklands, then he will undoubtedly stumble upon the den of familiars trapped in that realm. You know the legend, the stories of our creation—we need a human counterpart to fulfill our duty. If he rescues my familiar, I will not be able to do this…" A flash of light and he was human again. Walter closed his eyes. "The only kindness I have ever known is from humans, from being able to share in their existence. I feel more at home with them than I do with troll-kind. Without my humanity, I will be stripped of every comfort I have ever known. "

Vendel lifted his chin to the top of his staff, using it as a resting post. Several cold heartbeats pumped through Walter's veins before the troll spoke again.

"I can't help but to think that you have some other plan at work here, but the Eye of Gunmar…that is indeed an offer I cannot refuse. Hold the artifact up to the light. I will not take it from you."

"You can't," the changeling said as he held the eye skyward.

"Oh, believe me, I _can_." Vendel's hand rose. He held his palm over the glowing piece, inches away, though he did not take it. Soft, low words began to flow out of his mouth, their tone rising and falling like the glow of hot coals. When Vendel stopped, he paused and looked up at the changeling.

"This _is_ Gunmar's eye," he said, sounding unsurprised. "Well then, Stricklander, you will have your way after all."

The changeling's smile bordered on smugness.

"When the Trollhunter's friends return with the incantation, I will see whether or not it is possible to work an additional chant into its uttering. If so, then I will let you know at once. I can pass it off as the side effect of meddling with botched-up Gumm-Gumm spellwork. If I can't weave it in, you will still give us the eye. I wasn't just testing its validity a moment ago, I placed a beacon on you that will send an army of frost-hounds your way at my bidding . You must give the Trollhunter that artifact, or you will suffer a frozen fate. "

"That's hardly fair," he snorted, the artifact vanishing in an instant. "I told you-if I die, it will be lost."

"Oh, they won't kill you." Vendel added. "You're not the only one with clever tactics."

"Fine," Walter said, his eyes flashing yellow.

"One more thing," said Vendel as he gestured to the air. "Working with memory spells is tricky business. I can't 'remove' her memory so much as I can condense and reassign it. If I do this, all of her associations with you will be filtered into one or two significant moments. These moments will be ushered deep into her subconscious mind. I can't guess which ones they'll be, because her mind will be the one that choses them, but I will warn you...if she is ever given cause to remember one of them, she runs the risk of remembering all. Did you ever give her anything of significance? Any records, letters, photographs...? They must be taken out of the picture."

Walter paused, thinking through his times with her. Memories churned through his mind in fragments and broken slivers-kisses and cars and strawberry shortcake. "I…" he paused, taken aback by his own conclusion. "Nothing. I never gave her anything."

The emptiness he felt was staggering. He bit his lip, running a hand through his hair. It sounded terrible, he knew. In the end, it hadn't been about buying his way into things, or showing off. He simply wanted to spend time with her. Humans had so little of time, and he'd unjustly stolen hers. Now, he only wanted to give what he could back.

"You are sure there is nothing to remove?" Vendel raised a brow. "If her association with an object, location , or even an individual is strong or unique enough, her memories with start to trickle here and there. Then they will burst, like water through the walls of a cave."

Walter shook his head. "She has no reason to come near my dwelling again, and there is nothing else aside. Nothing. Now, are we settled?"

"Very well." The larger troll nodded. "If you are sure, then steel yourself. The time has come for you to say goodbye. We must hurry."

Vendel's hand came around his back and, gently, the leader nudged him forward. He obeyed, each step thundering as it led him forward, heart fluttering around like a caged bird within the confines of his chest. A bird, he thought, that knew it was about to lose its wings.


End file.
